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“I don’t have it with me,” the lie slips easily from my lips.
“You don’t have it?” Birdy lets her hand drop and presses her mouth in a tight line. “Of course you don’t.” She shakes her head. “Whatever, just get it to me in class.”
With that, she turns on the balls of her feet and gives another command to her dog. They start walking almost instantly, not even the slightest bit of doubt in the direction they are going.
“Fuck,” I mutter, as I realize that I’m just staring after them instead of following, so I hurry up. Thankfully, my strides are long, and it doesn’t take me a lot to catch up to them.
“So was it the list? I had to do some googling to decipher what the list is saying, but I’m pretty sure it said “flirt with a stranger.”” I give her a side glance noticing her stoic face as she does her best to ignore me. But it’ll take more than that to stop me. “Was that what you were trying to do?”
“I-I…” Her lips part, and she looks completely flabbergasted by my question.
“Yes?”
She gives her head a small shake. “I’m not talking about this. Not with you.”
“Well, I’m the only one here. What I don’t understand is why would you want to flirt withthatguy?”
It made no sense. The dude was in his forties, at least, with a balding head, cheeks bright red from alcohol, and a wedding ring on his finger.
Although I guess Birdy couldn’t see any of that, now could she?
As if to confirm it, her brows pull together in a frown. “What do you mean by “that” guy? He seemed nice.”
Nice?
Is that what she’s looking for in a guy? Nice?
I grit my teeth. “Trust me. You didn’t want to flirt with that guy.”
She shouldn’t be flirting with anybody, but I don’t bother pointing that out since I don’t think it would give me any points with little Birdy here.
And I needed those points in my favor.
I needed her, plain and simple.
I needed her to give me my muse back.
For a moment, I thought that maybe I wouldn’t need her—a shame since she’s so talented that I wouldn’t mind listening to her play and sing—that just hearing her that one time might be enough, but all the crumpled papers in my notebook and on the living room floor back at my apartment beg to differ.
“You might think you know everything, Bash, but you don’t. I wanted to flirt with the guy, so wh—”
“You wanted to flirt with an old married guy?” I challenge, irritated with the whole situation.
Her eyes widen, surprise flashing on her face at my words. “W-what?”
“The old dude’s married,” I repeat, in case she missed it the first time. “You’d probably figured it out if you tried touching his hand. He doesn’t even bother to take off his ring when he flirts with girls at bars. Maybe next time you flirt with somebody you should check if you like the person, or I don’t know if he’s available?”
She sucks in a sharp breath at my harsh words, but the surprise is there a moment before she schools her features and presses her lips in a tight line. “You’re a real jackass. You know that?”
“I’ve been cal—” That damn dog comes to a stop in front of the crosswalk, almost making me bump into her.
“Why does he do that?”
Seriously, what was with all the abrupt stops?
Penelope turns over her shoulder, her eyes looking in my direction but not quite meeting mine. “He’s telling me that we’re at a crosswalk, and that I have to be careful when crossing.”
“Huh… Shouldn’t he just walk you past if there are no cars?”
